


I Still Have One Wish to Make

by Ellerigby13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Christmas, Dysfunctional Family, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellerigby13/pseuds/Ellerigby13
Summary: It's nearly Christmas, and Darcy is tired of showing up single to her family's annual gin fizz party.  Steve so kindly volunteers to come with her as her fake boyfriend.*slaps the hood of my fic* This baby can fit so many tropes into it: mutual pining, friends-to-lovers, family angst, andOnly. One. Bed.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 83
Kudos: 356





	1. i. i've got a crush on you

_ I've got a crush on you, sweetie pie _ _  
_ _ All the day and nighttime, hear me sigh _ _  
_ _ I never had the least notion _ _  
_ _ That I could fall with such emotion _ _  
_ _ \- “I’ve Got a Crush On You” - Ella Fitzgerald _

“You’re going to a  _ what _ ?”

Darcy tried not to pull a muscle with the eye-roll that followed. “A gin fizz party, Steve. Because my cousin has decided to rebrand herself as ‘the young, hot Southern Gatsby,’ even though she’s lived in fucking Cleveland her whole life.” She plopped into her favorite squishy leather stool at the kitchen counter, digging her spoon into the bowl of Reese’s Puffs and milk she’d just painstakingly prepared. “Like, I wouldn’t hate Priscilla as much if she just  _ let _ herself be the pretty, lovable one instead of making sure everybody  _ knows _ she’s the pretty lovable one.”

“That makes you the dark horse, then?” Steve smiled, bumping the counter with his hip. “So remind me again why you’re going to your cousin’s gin fizz party...if you hate her.”

“Because the Cleveland Lewises, of which I am an unfortunate member, do not take kindly to anybody missing major social events. Especially since this is Priscilla’s first married Christmas, it’s kind of...an obligation.”

He raised both eyebrows as he dumped a mountain of scrambled eggs, bacon, and spinach onto the plate he’d laid out in front of his usual spot next to hers. “I take it that means telling everyone to fuck off so you can binge Clark Gable movies and drown yourself in white wine and canned stew is off the table.”

The chocolate-peanut butter-milk combination burned when it squirted out of her nose. “You ever think we’ve been spending too much time together, Rogers?”

“You and me? Nah.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “I think you can’t get enough of me, Lewis.”

“Had enough of your sass, that’s for damn sure.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket with another flurry of texts from Priscilla and Aunt Joanie just tickling each other’s big, gorgeous, beauty queen egos. “Ugh. She modeled the outfit she and her dog are wearing that day so we and our partners can ‘plan accordingly.’ I’m gonna show up in the ugliest Christmas sweater I can find so I can sit out all the family photos and pretend I was here for the holiday.”

“Well, now you’re just makin’ me jealous,” he said through a mouthful of food, reaching so he could tilt her phone to see the picture for himself. “That is the cutest fucking dog I have  _ ever _ seen. Why don’t we like her again?”

“Because she’s annoyingly perfect and rubs my insecure nose in it every time I see her, and even though I know I kick ass at my job, me being single apparently means that I’ve  _ chosen _ to be the Strong Independent Woman Who’s Too Good for a Nice Man.” The image of the two of them as fourteen-year-olds swam to the front of her mind, Priscilla with her eyeshadow that was too old for her and her head to toe Abercrombie and the little bracelet she’d gotten for volunteering with Habitats for Humanity over the summer. And then there was Darcy, with her self-done bangs, fingerless gloves, and the tiny ‘I HEART MCR’ button fastened to her obnoxious Peter Pan collar. They were very much on opposite ends of the 2004 spectrum, but at least back then they’d gotten along okay.

Steve was staring at her. “You know you’re essentially...perfect, right?”

She shrugged and threw back the rest of her chocolate-peanut butter-milk. “Until I come home to sell Arbonne and be an Instagram housewife, it won’t be enough for them.”

“How about…” he started, tilting his head at her with some kind of dangerous curiosity that she’d never seen on him before. “I come home with you and be your Arbonne-selling Instagram househusband?”

If she hadn’t already finished her cereal, she’d be choking on it again. Her eyebrows creased, and she looked him up and down his big dumb muscular body. “Come  _ on _ , Steve. Seriously?”

“Why not? I can be your trophy boyfriend for the weekend, your family lets you be the happy badass you are, and I get all the free fizzy gin I want.”

She poked him in the side, smiling when he squirmed away. “First of all, I know you have an eidetic memory, so don’t act like you don’t know what it’s really called. Secondly, I recall you saying something about not being able to get drunk, and thirdly...do you really think my family would buy it? You and me? Get real, Steve, you’re…”

He smiled back, like he was challenging her. “What, a Cancer? Too tall? Too blond?”

“You’re Captain fucking America, is what you are. My family would never in a million years believe that we were a thing.”

It should have been illegal, the way he tilted his chin down to give her that teasing look that would have ruined her panties, if she ever thought he meant it. “Then what the hell do you have to lose?”

She didn’t have a good answer for that. Her family would shit on her, with or without a date (probably more so without), and she’d likely get too drunk and hide in the bathroom watching old Vine compilations while the rest of her cousins fawned over each other. If she brought Steve with her, at least she’d have someone to commiserate with until the whole affair was over.

“You’re awful eager to come home with me,” she suggested weakly, dancing around him to clean her bowl in the dorm’s communal kitchen sink. Clint had left an old coffee mug in one corner, and something was growing in it that smelled...sour. “You don’t have big plans for Christmas this year? No presidential dinners to go to, or ribbon-cutting ceremonies, or holiday-themed comic cons where teenagers will pay a hundred bucks to have you sign a Santa hat for them?”

“No, no, and no.” He leaned forward on his elbows, surveying her through eyes that had suddenly turned sheepish. “I just...wanna get off base for a while. Talk to normal people, who can ask me about things that don’t have to do with HYDRA, or Ultron, or...D-Man.” When she raised her eyebrows, he continued, “SHIELD was trying to get me to recruit this guy in Manhattan, but he’s a little...unconventional.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his mouth puckering a little to the side. “Sharon’s also a little bit of a factor.”

Now,  _ that  _ perked her ears up. “Sharon as in Sharon Carter? Sharon Carter, the infamous Agent 13?”

A delightful pink flush spread from his neck to the tip of his nose, and he sucked his lower lip between his teeth, all of a sudden very bashful. “She texted me last night at one thirty.”

Darcy stage-gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. “Whatever could be so urgent?”

“Something about me being an asshole, how could I break up with her when I did, she understands what went wrong, but why shouldn’t we have another go, it’s almost Christmas and she’s missed me…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his mouth turning up into a grimace. “I would sort of like to avoid her as much as I can these next few days, and Hill already cleared me for some PTO. Unless, of course, there’s some Earth-shattering robot or alien or something who decides to Grinch up everyone’s holiday season.”

It was her turn to stare at him this time. Steve Rogers, the Star-Spangled Man himself and one of her best friends at the entire Avengers compound, wanted to go home with her and pretend they were dating so he could get away from his perfect, beautiful ex-girlfriend who could  _ definitely _ murder Darcy in a hundred ways if she wanted. There had been a time, she mused, that she had  _ almost _ considered her life normal.

If he had been anyone else, she would’ve snapped at them to suck it up and deal with their problems (and exes) like an adult, and not drag her into their mess. But he was Steve, and she was just as messy, and the tiniest voice in the back of her head echoed him in asking what she had to lose.

“Fine,” she sighed, putting her bowl back in the cupboard with a little more force than was probably necessary, “but I have a couple of conditions.”

To his credit, Steve looked like he was trying not to light up completely. “Alright, shoot.”

“Number one is when we get back, you put on your big boy pants and talk to Sharon like you’re not a Dorito-shaped baby.” A gentle smile tugged on his lips, but he nodded, as if to say,  _ fair enough _ . “You’re  _ also  _ paying for gas and road trip snacks, because you’re the one finagling me into this nonsense.”

His smile turned into a full-force grin. “ _ Finagling _ ? Me?”

“And three,” she continued, sternly pointing to her third fingertip, “most important,  _ I’m _ picking the driving music.”

“These are fair conditions,” Steve agreed, his expression far more amused than she had expected. He got up from his stool and scooted around her to clean his empty plate before replacing it in the cupboard next to her bowl. “We should probably spend a little more time setting up ground rules, but I’ve got one for you, to begin with.”

Darcy felt her lips pursing of their own accord. “I don’t know that you’re in a position to be making demands here, buddy.  _ I’m _ the one doing  _ you _ a favor.”

“I know. But it’s important, too.” He stood next to her now, and Darcy cursed how fucking  _ big  _ he was, he always towered over her when it was just the two of them. Like he could scoop her up and toss her around, a la Gimli and Aragorn in  _ The Two Towers _ . He nudged her with his elbow, lips turning up into a tender smile. “You gotta promise you’re not gonna fall for me for real here, Lewis.”

Before she turned away, she made sure he could see her rolling her eyes at him. No matter how warm and strange that touch had suddenly made her feel. “You are  _ such  _ a closet fuckboy.”

* * *

Steve leaned into the cool window on his right, his pencil loose in his fingers as he started out a rough outline of Darcy dancing in the driver’s seat, the pom-pom on the top of her beanie bouncing as she crooned (badly) along with the stereo. There were still crumbs of their gas station burritos on her chest, but she was in much better spirits now that they’d stopped for something to eat.

“Tell me about your family again,” Steve said, once the Christmas track faded out, trying not to pay too much attention to the shading on the soft curve of her Cupid’s bow. “There’s your mom, Lydia…”

“Dad is Spencer, my brother’s Adam…” He snuck a look at her when she craned her neck, checking her blind spot to pass the trailer in front of them. He wasn’t sure exactly when this friendship had taken a turn for him; they’d been friends since he accidentally ate one (or five) of her frozen pizzas after a mission and she’d summoned him to the labs to yell at him about it the following morning. She was funny, kind and patient with the interns, no-nonsense with him. And then, one day, he realized he’d been texting her from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep, and that on the days he opened his eyes to a text from her, it was hard to wipe a smile off his face.

He was certifiably in love with his best friend, and she was...none the wiser.

“...she married  _ Patton Crawford _ mostly because Aunt Joanie thinks he’s a good hedge fund boy, and probably also wants to fuck him, even though he’s a gigantic  _ prick _ .”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Patton Crawford? He was  _ destined  _ to be an asshole with two last names like that.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighed. “He got so drunk at his own wedding, I heard the photos from the reception had to be Photoshopped so he wouldn’t look like a drowned rat in all the albums Priscilla ordered.” The next song started to build up, Darcy immediately reaching for the dial, and Steve felt his lips start to tug up into another grin.

“I didn’t know you liked Jhené Aiko.”

He thought her neck might snap, the way she turned to look, wide-eyed, at him, brows drawing together in the middle. “ _ You _ like Jhené Aiko? Our lord and savior, the Duchess of R&B?”

“I’m allowed to be into  _ some _ modern things, you know. It ain’t all Great Depression an’ ‘gee whillikers.’” It was dumb, but it made her laugh, and that was what counted, because as much as he liked modern rhythm and blues he could listen to the sound of her laughter all day. “Pepper showed me, of all people. That song, uh...the one with Childish Gambino.”

“You mean ‘Bed Peace’?” she deadpanned, quirking an eyebrow at him. “ _ ‘Wake up, wake up, gotta get this paper, get this cake up _ ’?” When he hummed the next part, reluctant to subject her to his terrible singing voice, she shook her head, grinning, and turned her eyes back to the road. “Jesus Christ, Jhené Aiko. Do me a favor and don’t let the public  _ ever _ find out what a cool grandpa you are.”

“So you admit that I’m cool?”

A jackass in a sports car skated around her on the highway, cutting her off, and she took her time giving him the finger before she responded. “For a grandpa. I guess.”

It was dark by the time she pulled into the parking lot outside the Rose Garden Bed and Breakfast, on the suburban edge of Cleveland. They’d only needed to stop once for food, gas, and a pee break, so when Steve clambered out of the SUV that, for anybody else, would have been midsized, he reached his arms over his head in a mighty stretch, a little thankful to breathe in the crisp winter air after so many hours. On the other side of the car, Darcy was twisting, giving a soft groan when the lower part of her back cracked.

“Finally,” she yawned with a satisfied smile. “I’m about ready to eat my weight in room service and watch all the trash TV my brain can handle.”

Steve had both of their bags out of the trunk before she could argue about it. “ _ Anything _ but Dr. Pimple Popper.”

“You’d think a six- or seven-time war hero would be able to handle a little pus, a couple of epidermoid cysts.” She closed the trunk behind him and fell into step at his side on the way to the lobby. “I can only imagine the public disappointment when everyone finds out Steve Rogers gets  _ queasy _ about a stupid TLC show.”

“Just because I’ve seen an open wound before doesn’t mean I wanna spend my free time watchin’ some poor sap get cut open and have shit extracted from ‘em.” Darcy shouldered open the door to the lobby for him, not even pretending not to laugh as the bell attached to the doorframe connected with his eyebrow.

“Gosh!” The clerk at the front desk got to her feet, a hand to her chest. She reminded him a little of Wanda, round-faced and cautious, but a hell of a lot more Midwestern. “I’m so sorry, are you - are you okay?”

“It’s - I’m fine.” He pasted on a smile, trying to ignore Darcy’s dying snickers. “We’re, um...checking in?”

“Yes.” Darcy coughed once, very much unable to stifle her amusement. “Darcy Lewis? I had a single room originally, but I called last week to try and switch to the standard double room. I talked to...Emma? I think?”

The clerk sucked her lower lip between her teeth as her eyes razed across the computer screen in front of her. Steve did not care for the growing crease between her brows. “Shoot...that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Emma left for her maternity leave last week, she must’ve put your name in the wrong slot. She signed you up for the one-bed suite…” The girl twisted her mouth up into a flustered pout, clicking through the computer. “I’m afraid the suite you have reserved is the only room we have available.”

“No second bed?” Darcy said, cautiously; Steve felt the heat creeping up the back of his neck. 

“You  _ do _ have a pull-out sofa if you require a second bed,” the girl answered quickly, tapping at the keyboard, “and I’m happy to comp you a bottle of wine with your first room service charge for the stay, if you’re still interested.” She met Darcy’s eye with an apologetic grimace. “I’m so sorry for the mixup, but I can absolutely give you the suite for the price of the double.”

Finally Darcy glanced up at him, one hand on her hip. “One of us can take the sofa. I just wanna get in a shower and stuff my face, if that’s okay with you.”

He might have let himself feel anxious about the bed situation, if his stomach hadn’t immediately taken over with a mighty rumble at the mention of food. He turned to the clerk. “Can we place our room service order now?”

Three flights of stairs, two showers, two cheeseburgers, and a half a bottle of chardonnay later, Darcy was sprawled out across her side of the couch, shoes forgotten on opposite ends of the suite, and Steve had tucked himself into his designated cushion to search the TV for the right Christmas movie while she painted her toes a soft plum color.

“What’s on the schedule for tomorrow?” Their usual reality trash TV had gone on break for Christmas, and all the same holiday movies were in rotation, so he settled on something he knew would make her smile. 

“Breakfast here,” she said, her head popping up with a grin to see what he’d put on. “This is my  _ favorite _ . The early Harry Potters always make me feel Christmassy. Sorry, um...breakfast here in the morning, then if you want to come shopping for my mom’s gift with me, we can do that, and then in the evening we have dinner with my family so I can help prep food for the gin fizz party on Thursday.”

“That sounds good.” He toed out of his sneakers, stretching his legs out across the floor in front of the couch. “What are we making for the party?”

She looked at him with both eyebrows raised. “We?”

He felt his ears go hot. “Well, I’m crashin’ your party...so I should probably be contributing, right? So what’re we making?”

To his surprise, a soft pink blush crawled into her cheeks. “Uh...shepherd’s pie. It was my favorite as a kid, and I found a pretty good recipe on the Internet a few years back.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. It had begun to snow outside the window, the dark sky thickened with pearly gray clouds. He was reminded how cozy and intimate the suite was beginning to feel. “I’m a lousy cook, but I’m happy to help you chop vegetables or something…”

“That’s really sweet of you, Steve,” she said, in a voice so soft he felt his insides tumble. “And you totally don’t have to. But I  _ do _ hate chopping vegetables, so I might have to take you up on that.”

He didn’t know what else to do but smile back at her, pretending his stomach wasn’t doing backflips, as she finished the last coat to her pinky toe and let her feet plop onto the ottoman on the other side of the couch. She had cute feet - not that he was into feet like that, but it was hard to find a part of her that wasn’t cute. The things she complained about idly to him, like her butt bumping into things around her apartment, or her height keeping her from reaching her favorite mug whenever Sam unloaded the dishwasher. As hard as he tried to empathize with what she called first world problems, he couldn’t help liking almost everything about her.

“Steve?” she said, not looking away from the TV. His heart fluttered like a trapped bird against his ribcage.

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay with this?” Her voice didn’t exactly quiver, but there was a note of uncertainty that betrayed most of the confident pluckiness he’d come to associate with her. “I just...my family is kind of  _ a lot _ , and you’re...you know, kind of high profile. If someone said something shitty about Bucky, or…”

He felt his jaw tighten. It hadn’t been easy to amend Tony’s anxieties about Bucky after the truth about Howard and Maria had come out, but ultimately the three of them, plus Agent Hill and King T’Challa of Wakanda, had decided it was in the Avengers’ and the world’s best interest that the Winter Soldier be rehabilitated on American soil by the best scientists Stark could assemble. This included T’Challa’s sister Princess Shuri.

As happy as he was to see Bucky receive the treatment he needed, it had been hard to leave him on base for the holidays, and harder to see what the media had to say about his history.

“I can handle myself,” he swore, mustering up whatever courage he had to reach across the couch and squeeze her hand. “Really, I’ve been...you know, doing as best as I can to keep myself in check. I’ve got a therapy appointment scheduled when we get back, even.” He guided his eyes back to the TV, in the futile effort to keep himself from wanting to pull her into his arms, hold her and keep her warm through the night. “I’m okay, Darce. Promise. I just wanna be here for you.”

After she leaned across the couch to press a kiss to his cheek, he could see her eyes shining in the reflection of the TV. He said nothing when her head came to rest on his shoulder while the first movie blended into the second and she began to snore gently into his shirt. With as tender a touch as he could manage, he cupped the back of her neck and wrapped his arm around the backs of her thighs to carry her to bed, tucking her into the thick sheets.

“Love you,” she mumbled into her pillow, curling into it with a soft sigh, and then she was out.

Steve tucked into the sofa bed that was about eight inches too short, and tried, not very hard, to fall asleep without dreaming that he was in the bed only a few feet away, that he was loved by the girl in it as much as she was by him.

* * *

“You look healthy,” was the first thing out of her father’s mouth when Darcy rapped on the solid walnut door that separated her from the first home she’d ever known. Spencer Lewis thought he was being funny, a ghoulish smile sliding up the left side of his face. “Come on in, darlin’. Your mom’s just put on the fire. And who - ” This meant he’d finally laid eyes on Steve, who was standing meekly behind her with a bottle of wine in his hand. “ - might you be?”

Darcy felt like she was about to choke on her own spit. “Daddy, this is my boyfriend. Steve.”

“Steve,” her dad said, as if he’d never heard the name before in his life, weighing it on his tongue while he took its bearer in, offering a hefty hand for shaking. “I’d say we’ve heard so much about you, but my little girl’s been awful mum about the things she gets up to these days.”

_ “Daddy,” _ she hissed, but she was already across the threshold, head lowered with embarrassment on her way into the kitchen. That was where her mother and brother were waiting for her, where she unloaded her armful of groceries that she’d refused to let Steve handle on their way up the steps from the car. When she saw her daughter, Lydia Lewis came rushing from behind the breakfast bar, her arms spread open wide.

“Darcy-baby!” her mother cried, sucking her into a signature bone-crushing hug. “It’s been too long, sweetpea, so, so,  _ so _ too long!”

“Hi, Momma.” Adam was waiting with open arms when his mother let go, grinning at Darcy with their matching gapped smiles. “Hey, A. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, kid. You rakin’ in enough dough to get me that Lambo I been asking for yet?”

“If that’s what you want, you’ll have to take up my wages with Tony Stark,” she shot back. But by the time she’d spoken it out loud, the attention in the room had laser-focused not on her witty remark but on the brick shithouse of a human being who’d followed her into the kitchen.

“Hi, Mrs. Lewis,” Steve said shyly, like every good Catholic boy her mom had complained about her never bringing home in high school. “I’m, uh...Darcy’s boyfriend. Steve.”

Lydia’s eyes had gone round as saucers. She looked him up and down, recognition flooding her already hopeful face. “Steve - Captain -  _ shit _ .”

In true Star Spangled Man with a Plan fashion, Steve gave a good natured chuckle, reaching between them to gently take her hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Lewis. Darcy’s told me so much about you.”

Darcy’s mother wouldn’t have noticed if the president marched naked through the house playing Baby Shark on the trombone. She’d shaken Steve’s hand up and down for a good ten seconds now, a starstruck smile glazed over her lips. “Please, please...call me Lydia. It’s so good to meet you...Darcy hasn’t mentioned - never said she had a  _ boyfriend _ .”

Immediately Darcy felt her cheeks fill with heat, her creeping blush almost burning when it reached the space beneath her eyes. Was this what it was going to be like tomorrow, when she introduced him to the rest of the family? It was too late to back out, now that she’d told her parents they were together, now that she’d officially brought him home for the holidays.

“Well, I do,” she finally said, eyes on the brown paper bag that contained almost everything she would need not to feel like a complete jackass at the party the following day. “We haven’t been together super long, and there are a lot of dating restrictions at work, so it isn’t exactly...public knowledge.”

“Oh, you’ve got it, Darce.” It hadn’t seemed possible, but Adam’s grin grew wider. “Our lips are sealed.”

She knew there was no possible way that could be true, but shrugged it off all the same, navigating the kitchen cabinets to get started on her shepherd’s pie. Steve very helpfully wrapped an arm around her as she unpacked the groceries, she forgot not to flinch when he leaned in to her ear.

_ “You okay?” _

“Mhm,” she said, resolved not to look him in the eye while she passed him a cutting board and a knife with each bag of vegetables.

“So…” her father began, with the oddly forced mannerisms of an interrogator. “How’d you two meet?”

“Work,” Darcy said simply, passing around her brother’s tall, lanky frame to fill a pot with water to boil her potatoes in. Steve shot her a sympathetic smile.

“I came back from a mission one night the hungriest I’d ever been and...may have accidentally stolen a few of her pizzas from the lounge freezer.”

“A few? I woke up that morning looking for  _ a _ pizza for breakfast, and found, like, six of my empty boxes in the trash.” Adam let loose a soft laugh through his nose. The fond memory of calling Steve to the lab specifically to yell at him for being a pizza thief tugged on the corners of Darcy’s lips and finally, for the first time since she’d stepped into this house again, the tension in her shoulders faded just slightly. “He very sweetly apologized for being a damn thief and promised that the next time he stole my food from the community fridge, he’d at least be kind enough to ask me to join him to eat it.”

“And I promised I’d take her to dinner to make up for what I’d  _ borrowed _ ,” he emphasized from beside her, with another one of those smiles that shouldn’t have made her heart jump the way it did.

In fairness, he  _ had  _ made up for stealing her food with the trip off base to a little hole-in-the-wall pizza joint with the greasiest slices they could buy and an Adam West-era Batman pinball machine that she gravitated towards the second she saw it. Come to think of it, that was the first time they’d hung out just the two of them; it seemed in the moment like she’d known him a lot longer, because the usual awkwardness of getting to know an actual national treasure and verified Superhero™ had been drowned in mountains of cheesy, cheesy pizza and the competitiveness of  _ needing _ to beat him at Batman pinball.

“I played almost the whole Tommy album for you on that jukebox that night, you remember?” He’d lowered his voice, and with the bustle of her mom fussing behind them to get back to her chicken casserole and the TV blasting the Patriots game from the living room, it was almost like Steve had only said it for her.

“I do,” she said, softer than she was trying to. “You used a breadstick as a microphone for ‘Sensation.’ It was...pretty terrible.”

He nudged her with his elbow, emptying the carrots he’d chopped into the bowl she handed him. “Haven’t had much practice on the breadstick, I’m much better at playing the calzone.”

From behind them, Lydia gave an audible but pleasant sigh. So she  _ had  _ been listening this whole time. “I remember my first date with your father...he took me to the bowling alley on a league night by mistake and we ended up eating gas station hot dogs on the bench outside…” She shook her head with a wistful, loving smile. “I think I knew, maybe a month in, that he was gonna be the man I married.”

Any other time she might have laughed it off as her mom being corny, but there was a soft something in her momma’s voice tonight that swelled with affection inside Darcy’s chest.

“Sometimes you just know,” Steve said, and before her brain could process just how near to her he was, his hand came to settle on the small of her back. They’d set up ground rules in the car, she remembered, that they should at least put some effort into pretending, that most of the publicly physical stuff would be okay, kissing would be okay. But now, with him so close, standing next to her in the kitchen of her childhood, she didn’t know what to do but lean automatically into his touch.

“Yeah,” she smiled, her fingers finding the collar of his shirt.

He kissed her with warm, gently chapped lips. Her chest was flush to his, and in spite of herself Darcy felt the delicious burn of want slink up her front, Steve’s nose brushing hers, kissing her the way that Bogart kissed Bergman in the movie.

And then it was over, because he was so close, standing next to her in the kitchen of her childhood, and her heart was hammering madly against the insides of her ribcage.

She swallowed thickly, pressed her lips together, and smiled at him once before turning back to her potatoes and the boiling pot that waited for them.

A voice in her head which sounded very loudly like Denial with a capital D told her that Steve was a  _ hell _ of an actor.


	2. ii. ribbons and bows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from the kiss, and Steve and Darcy attend the gin fizz party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for mentions of infertility and family being quite shit ahead.
> 
> There be smut here.

_ No, don’t need much under the tree _ _   
_ _ Oh, but you can light me up _ _   
_ _ Ribbons and bows to cure my woes _ _   
_ _ ‘Cause I just need your love _ _   
_ _ \- “Ribbons and Bows” - Kacey Musgraves _

Steve woke with an awful crick in his neck, pushing away from the pull-out sofa to get his feet under him. It was still dark outside, and Darcy lay curled in the suite bed, her breath puffing up a few strands of the hair over her face every few seconds. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, padding toward the bathroom, his gut twisted annoyingly pleasantly at the memory of the previous night.

They had played boyfriend and girlfriend. Her folks seemed to like him okay. They’d kissed before putting together the shepherd’s pie they were going to bring to the party today.

(They’d kissed.)

They’d eaten dinner with her family, and the moment they got back to the suite, she’d gotten into her pajamas and fallen into bed like a sinking stone. Once her head hit the pillow, she was out - they weren’t going to have a chance to talk about the fact that they’d kissed, off the cuff, in the middle of her childhood home, until the following day.

(They’d kissed.)

He left the bathroom lights off while turning on the shower, kicking off his sweatpants, letting the scalding hot water roll through his scalp, down his skin. If he listened closely, through the slapping of liquid on tile, he could still hear her gentle snoring outside the door. He pressed a hand to the glass wall, trying to drown the too-rapid tattoo of his heart in the cascades above his head.

_ (They’d kissed.) _

He was stupid to have suggested this in the first place. Stupid to have gone along with it when she gave him an out. Stupid to stay silent on the car ride back instead of telling her he wanted to call this off.

Stupid to have kissed her and, with complete certainty, given up the painfully blatant fact that he was head over heels in love with her, had been nearly since the moment he’d met her.

As he scrubbed shampoo through his hair, he could hear the faint sounds of her stirring in her bed, likely woken by the sounds of his shower. The fleeting thought passed through his head: what if she came in? What if she marched in through that door and joined him, naked as the day she was born, in the shower, and kissed him within an inch of his life?

It was ludicrous, he knew, but there was also a thrill to it - that maybe she felt the same way he did. And that, when they’d kissed the night before, it had opened the door to...being something else.

_ (They’d kissed!) _

A soap sud trickled down his hair and into his eye, and he swore under his breath. Jesus Christ, he was embarrassing. Getting soap in his eyes while he fantasized about one dumb fucking fake kiss with the girl he had sort of pined for almost as long as he’d known her.

He finished his shower with as much of his remaining organs intact as he could manage, and brushed his teeth mechanically, doing his best not to agonize over all the other things that could go wrong today. He could leave the bathroom with toilet paper on his shoe, could break a precious family heirloom by accident, could watch her open the gift he’d gotten her and watch her absolutely hate it. Worst of all, he might even be expected to kiss her in front of everyone again, and of course it would make him...feel things again.

Why couldn’t he have offered this to Nat? Or Wanda? Or anyone he looked at as a  _ friend _ , and not...Darcy?

By the time he got his brain to slow at least a little, his beard was trimmed, he’d applied what seemed like a sensible amount of cologne, and he’d decided on an outfit that didn’t feel like it was trying too hard. She had slipped out of the suite just after he got out of the shower, he’d heard the door opening and closing behind her. And now, as he finished up, he could hear the creaking of the door as she returned.

He smoothed his hair, feeling ridiculous, and joined her in the main room. “Hey - sorry if I took too long, I just - ”

“It’s okay,” she said, a tentative smile on her lips. There were two red and green to-go coffee cups on the tiny kitchen table, and a small paper bag with grease on the bottom. “I, uh...got us some coffee. And a couple of bagels. Cream cheese with chives.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, meeting her eyes. She blushed, a row of teeth baring down gently on her lower lip. “So...it’s probably a good idea to talk about last night, right?”

“Yeah…” She fell into the seat opposite him at the little table, needing to do something with her hands, wrapping them around her coffee cup. “I don’t know how ready I was for that kiss.”

His heart sank a little, but she went on: “Should we have...practiced?”

“I - maybe? I don’t know, would that have made it weird?”

She laughed, finally, and he let loose a breath that he didn’t realize he’d been holding in. “Probably. I’m, uh...a little rusty is all. It’s kind of been a while.”

“Really?”

Darcy shrugged, her cheeks going the sweetest shade of pink. “I just...haven’t really been interested in hooking up with anybody, or dating anybody in a while. Which is why everyone’s so fucking excited to meet you, on top of the fact that you’re, you know,  _ you _ .”

It was his turn to blush. “Don’t start with that. You know me, I’m just...me.”

“A gigantic dork who sucks at pinball? Yeah, I know.” The gap between her two front teeth peeking out from her smile made him want to kiss her all over again. “Good luck convincing the rest of my family that.”

“If I play my cards right, I could very well ruin Christmas,” he smiled, reaching into the bag for a bagel at last, and slid it across the table to her. “I’ve been spinning the roulette wheel in my head of the ways I can fuck it all up: fart at the dinner table, maybe leave my fly down coming out of the bathroom…”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, spreading cream cheese over the meaty middle of her bagel. “Trust me, you could do that and more, and I’d still be the one who embarrasses myself.”

“Guess I’ll just have to break my NDA and tell them about all the crazy amazing things you and Jane get up to at the labs. All the times your judgment calls have saved our dumb asses.” The sound of her laughing pulled on his lips, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was smiling like an idiot just for being able to get that beautiful sound out of her.

“Careful, you do stuff like that, the public might want me to take your spot. Captain Darcy has a pretty sweet ring to it, huh?” She straightened up in her seat in her best Captain America pose, using one half of her bagel hooked around her finger as a shield. “‘Truth, justice, and the American Way.’ Jesus, we need to get you a real catchphrase. What was the one those creepy Mattel figures said? The ones they made after everything went down with Ultron?”

He rolled his eyes, smushing his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I think it was, ‘I’ll fight for our freedom any day.’ Which makes me sound like goddamn Braveheart.”

She was wheezing with laughter, now, tears in her eyes, pushing away from the breakfast table. “Oh my God, it  _ does _ .”

Steve couldn’t help but smile, waiting for her giggling to subside, and finished the rest of his bagel (and the next one, or two), sipping his coffee. Darcy returned to sipping her own coffee, but when she rested her hand on top of his across the table, he felt another wild swooping in his stomach.

“Jesus…” she sighed, running her thumb over the flat back of his hand. Her voice had softened considerably, back to business. “...I guess, uh...just next time, before we go full tonsil hockey, give me a little warning?”

Her eyes were too wide, too blue, when he met them, soft and kind and as sweet as he’d ever seen. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

* * *

It was a weird dance they were doing, Darcy knew, but she wouldn’t trade anything for being able to hold hands with her best friend while also making the same jokes, the same dorky jabs at each other they’d always made. Steve would be there for her, like he always was, while she faced up to her shitty extended family, no matter how hard she tried to do things right and act as put together as Priscilla always seemed to be.

Her heart did what felt like a full floor routine as she balanced a tower of presents stacked on top of the shepherd’s pie against her hip to ring the doorbell, ignoring Steve’s protests that he could very well carry more and ring it for her.

“Darcy!” Priscilla squealed, swinging the door open with her perfect winter-nude-manicured nails and eyelashes that almost went up to her forehead. “OhmiGod, come in! It’s so good to see you!”

“Hey, ‘Cilla,” she mumbled, trying not to trip on Cooper, the huge-eyed French bulldog whose stupid little flannel sweater matched her cousin’s perfectly. God, they were  _ cute _ . “Merry Christmas - where should we put the presents?”

“The tree’s in the sitting room, food’s in the kitchen if you wanna pop your dish in the oven. Hi!” Priscilla sang, noticing Steve on his way in. “I’m Priscilla, Darcy’s cousin. I’ve heard you’re the famous boyfriend?”

“Uh…” Steve chuckled, notes of anxiety weaved into his voice. “Just boyfriend is okay. I’m Steve. Thanks for having us.”

“Oh my God, of course, thanks for being here.” Cooper hopped up onto his hind legs, tongue out, his front paws pushing into Steve’s pant leg. “Cooper,  _ chill _ . C’mon, I’ll introduce you to  _ everybody _ .”

No sooner than Steve could unload the stash of presents that he and Darcy had brought, Priscilla had looped her dainty arm through his thick one, damn near parading him toward the kitchen, where the party already seemed to be in full swing. Her heart dropping into her stomach, Darcy followed along, Cooper hot on her heels.

“Hey, everybody!” Priscilla called over the sound of the blender pulsing up gin fizzes and the Alexa playing Christmas tunes. “Darcy and her boyfriend are here!”

A few of the aunts and uncles made noises of excitement, shuffling off their barstools to come say hello. Lydia was the first to press her lips to her daughter’s cheek, and thankfully took the casserole dish from Darcy’s hands to put in the oven herself. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“Captain America!” she heard Aunt Joanie stage-whisper from halfway across the room. From the looks of it, she was already a few glasses of Bordeaux deep, bounding off the couch and into the kitchen with arms wide open. “ _ Darcy _ , honey, merry  _ Christmas _ .”

“Merry Christmas, Aunt Joanie,” she hummed, letting her aunt leave fat pink lip-prints on each of her cheeks. “How’s everything going?”

“Oh, it’s been alright.” Her claw-like hands squeezed down on both Darcy’s arms, and when Aunt Joanie smiled it was like looking into a heavily lip-lined Sarlacc pit from Star Wars. “I keep telling your cousin she needs to move out of this neighborhood. Already there’ve been shootings a few blocks away, and I won’t have any grandchildren raised in the slums.”

“Mom,” Priscilla called from where she was introducing Steve to Uncle Herman and Aunt Crystal, chagrin painted clear across her face. “This neighborhood is  _ fine _ . There was a break-in a few miles out, no  _ shootings _ .”

“Still,” Joanie hissed, for Darcy and not her daughter. “My precious pumpkin can do better than this place. She doesn’t even have a mudroom.”

“Doesn’t even have a mudroom,” she echoed, shaking her head with faux sympathy. So her aunt hadn’t changed; she’d always been one of those ‘I’d like to speak to the manager,’ ‘immigrants are ruining this country,’ ‘if you don’t own your own home and have six children by twenty-five, you’ll end up alone’ kind of mothers. Sometimes Darcy felt bad for her cousin.

Steve was glancing over his shoulder at her now, eyebrows tight in a clear request to be rescued. She patted Aunt Joanie on the shoulder and danced around her to get back to her boyfriend for the weekend.

“So...what exactly  _ is _ a gin fizz party?” he was asking Priscilla. Once he spotted that Darcy was back at his side, he slung an arm around her and pulled her close. She leaned into him, willing her insides not to rattle with the excitement that his touch had brought her.

“Oh, it’s something our family picked up from our great-auntie Lavender, she was from Louisiana.” With Steve no longer on her arm, ‘Cilla’s eyes had flickered about the room, probably for her husband Patton. “Around Christmas, she’d get all her friends and the whole neighborhood together, and everybody would bring a dish, she would supply the booze. We put our own spin on it, blending up a bunch of batches instead of shaking them and putting them on ice.” A tender peach blush filled Priscilla’s cheeks. Darcy had never seen her cousin blush, not as an adult.

“Huh,” Steve said simply, tightening his fingers around Darcy’s waist. She swallowed hard, wrapping her arm around him, too. “Well, that’s a neat tradition you got. Nothing like spending time with family for the holidays, huh?”

“Of course not.” 

Patton Crawford’s deep baritone rang out from the top of the stairs, the fog of his Princeton-esque sweater fibers and cigar smoke almost preceding him into the kitchen. Darcy had always thought he looked like a Dreamworks villain, handsome in all the ways that should have been conventional but with something lifeless behind his eyes, lips turned up in a spiteful smile that never radiated...anything. She knew he was about as deep as a teacup, that his relationship with her cousin was more about accessorizing their perfect lives together than love, but for now Priscilla seemed happy. Even if he had blacked out at what was supposed to be the most important day of their lives.

“Sweetheart,” Priscilla said, her cheeks pulling apart into a broad smile. Patton descended the stairs with the air of a man who believed the entire party was waiting for him. “Darcy and Steve just got here.”

“Darcy.” He said her name like he’d been waiting for it, air-kissing her cheeks in a way that only made her want to vomit a little. At the rehearsal dinner, he’d called her ‘Daisy’ twice. “And...Steve, was it?”

“That’s right,” Steve said, carrying himself to his full height, one hand settling again at the curve of Darcy’s waist while the other offered itself to her cousin-in-law. “Pleased to meet you, Patton. Darcy’s told me so much about you both.”

“Has she?” The lingering scent of whiskey seemed to waft off him, his smile turning lopsided. Like Aunt Joanie, he’d likely started drinking before lunch today. “Well, you must be very proud, Steve. From what Priscilla’s told me, Darcy is quite accomplished.”

“She is,” Priscilla added helpfully, before Steve could even open his mouth. “She’s always been good at history, and science, and when all the super secret stuff went down with her in New Mexico, she was this total badass. I mean obviously we couldn’t talk about it all, but…” As her cousin shrugged, a sweet smile on her lips, Darcy felt a soft hope begin to surge in her.

“Well...thanks, ‘Cilla.”

A blush of her own was creeping its way up her chest, and Darcy was a little jolted when the doorbell down the front hallway sounded overhead. Cooper’s tiny claws skittered across the floor, and Priscilla excused herself to let in whoever had just shown up.

“I notice neither of you has a drink,” Patton smirked, giving Steve that weird manly shoulder pat that bougie assholes like him tended to do. “I’ll grab you both a fizz, alright?”

“Thanks,” Steve said stiffly, his arm flexing a little around her so she was tugged ever closer. Once he was out of earshot, Steve ducked a little lower, planting a kiss to the side of Darcy’s head. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed for what felt like the hundredth time. Priscilla’s kindness had caught her off guard, that was for sure. “Shit, I didn’t expect...she’s got all  _ this _ , everyone loves her…”

“Yeah, well... _ you’ve _ got the biggest, most brilliant brain I’ve ever met, and  _ I  _ love you, so…” Something fluttered inside her when he said it, and maybe it was just her cousin being sweet, or the emotional nature of the season, the fire crackling in the hearth, the tree shining with ornaments…

“Can I stage-kiss you again?” she whispered, too aware of his body pressed up next to hers.

There was a smile in his voice, his thumb circling the cinch of her dress at her waist. “Only if you say please…”

This time he settled a large hand in the crook of her neck, tilting her face up to meet his. His lips pressing to hers made her stomach twist and something warm thrill from her hips all the way up to her chest. He was chapped and soft at the same time, warm beneath her hands, the small wet shock of his tongue creasing between her lips in what felt...not quite like a question, or even a declaration, but...something like a promise.

“Get a room, you two,” Adam shouted from the front hallway, Darcy’s heart jumping. Steve broke the kiss first, smiling into her, his golden eyelashes blinking slowly open. His hand dropped from the side of her face to lace itself with hers.

“Hey, A. Hey, Lili.” Lili, her brother’s girlfriend, wrapped both arms around her, squeezing tight. Darcy had always liked her - she was a year or two younger, with long, curly dark hair, freckles splashed across her nose, and maybe the kindest brown eyes she’d ever seen. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas. Did you guys get in okay?”

“Yeah. The drive is never fun, especially through the snow, but I’m...glad to be here.” Patton returned with their drinks, greeting Lili with a stilted smile. He lingered awkwardly at Priscilla’s side, but at least now, with her brother and Lili here, Darcy’d started to feel a little more at home.

Adam went to fetch the two of them drinks, so Lili showed the rest of them pictures of the tabby cat they were fostering over the winter, and said nothing about Steve being, well, Steve. Unlike most of her shitty relatives thus far, she treated him not like Captain America, but...like Darcy’s boyfriend. Darcy’s realization of this almost put her at ease, if only his hand weren’t perpetually enveloping hers, his thumb tracing delicate little patterns across her skin.

_ This was what Christmas should be like _ , a tiny voice reminded her in the back of her mind. The thought was punctuated by a couple of her other cousins’ children running past, giggling and nearly tipping over the Christmas tree, and if she closed her eyes, she could let the rest of the party and the family blend into the gingerbread-scented background…

And then Patton Crawford decided to open his dumb fat mouth again. “Darling? Shouldn’t you be checking on the dinner?”

Priscilla should have throat-punched him and told him to check his own fucking dinner. Darcy's brief moment of Christmas serenity ebbed into a slowly bubbling rage as she saw the tiniest bit of light leave her cousin’s face as she excused herself to the kitchen in the same cheery voice from before, and as Patton started up prattling on about how he was sure grad school was all fine and good for Lili, but  _ his _ experience with his MBA had been par none.

“And the connections I made at Wharton, let me tell you - ”

“It’s engineering you said you’re going into, Lili?” Steve interrupted, a swell of affection rising again in Darcy’s stomach. Lili brightened visibly, nodding.

“Biomedical engineering, yeah,” she said, smiling at Adam when he handed her her glass. “It’s been kind of rough, trying to commute between Toledo and Ann Arbor, but it’s only a couple days a week and I feel like I’m learning so much. I got to see some of our nanotech in action at the med school a few weeks ago, and it was…” She shrugged, shaking her head. “...like magic.”

Darcy’s fake boyfriend smiled so radiantly and so sincerely she had to remind herself that it wasn’t real, that this love in him...wasn’t for her.

The moment was cut short with the horrible high call of Aunt Joanie cutting through the air: “Dinner is  _ ready _ !”

There was a shuffle from the kitchen to the dining room, and Darcy didn’t hesitate to hang back with Steve, Lili, and Adam, a small weight lifting from her shoulders when Patton proceeded ahead of them to join his wife.

“You havin’ an okay time so far?” she asked softly, disentangling her hand from his. She was warm, almost feverish, with missing his touch, and knew distinctly that missing him so close was not a good thing.

“I am. Lili and Adam are good people.” There was honesty in his voice, and, satisfyingly, a blatant exclusion of Patton. He was so tall, something so  _ golden _ about him… “You having an okay time?”

“You’re making it a hell of a lot easier thant it would’ve been without you,” she admitted, eyes forward. Her little nieces and nephews milled around the appetizer table, collecting the last scraps of the M&Ms on the charcuterie board and shoving them into their mouths before any of the parents could intervene. “I kinda want to bring you to all my family dys-functions from now on.”

“You’re gonna have to sweeten the deal with somethin’ more than gin fizzes and home-cooked meals, then, Lewis,” he chuckled. She would have laughed, like she usually did, but his voice was lower than it usually was, a rumble in his chest that went straight from her ears to the bottom of her abdomen.

Darcy held their drinks while Steve fixed them both plates, trying not to be distracted by the way he balanced each piece of dinnerware against his narrow waist. Every time he turned to smile at her, confirming whether he’d piled enough food on her plate, she felt her heart twinge both uncomfortably and so,  _ so _ pleasantly.  _ This isn’t permanent _ , that spiteful little voice reminded her, like a devil in her ear.  _ He’s  _ **_not_ ** _ yours. _

“Can I top you two off?” her dad asked with the blender in his hand. She nodded, tight-lipped, throat heavy, and passed him both cups.

The long dining table barely held them apart from the kids’ table, but Darcy was thankful to be squished between Steve and her mom, across from Lili and Adam. Once everyone was seated, Joanie made a point of clinking her glass with her knife more times than necessary, standing above everybody else.

“Attention: I think, since this is my precious Priscilla and Patton’s first time hosting, they should be the ones to lead us in the blessing.”

“Thanks, Aunt Joanie,” Darcy wanted to say, and roll her eyes so hard they might just pop out of her head. “Thank you for saying what everyone was already thinking, you pompous, self-absorbed dickweed.”

Instead, she sat back in her chair while Joanie returned to her place between her husband and daughter, head bowed in a shitty interpretation of reverence. ‘Cilla held her mother’s hand and her husband’s, perfect pink lips curving around her prayer.

“Heavenly father, we thank you for bringing us together from near and far to enjoy this delicious meal. We thank you for another year in good health, and...for another wonderful Cleveland Christmas.”

“Amen,” the table echoed.

Steve dropped her hand a little more slowly than Lydia did. Not that Darcy noticed.

Priscilla was right that the dinner was delicious. The table almost reminded her of the welcome feast at the Hogwarts castle, plates glistening and stuffed with food, casseroles and roasted vegetables and Cornish game hens to go with the booze and eggnog. The shit-slinging was bound to start soon, since people had been drinking a while now, and were all jammed into one space, but at least, Darcy thought, she’d be able to enjoy dinner for a little bit before the shitshow began.

“Everything is fantastic,” Steve said, to no one in particular. His knee was brushing hers under the table, which she was choosing not to take as a sign.

Naturally, Aunt Joanie was the first to respond. “Well, thank you, Steve. It’s all extra wonderful to enjoy in such great company.”

_ You made mashed potatoes out of a box, you rancid bitch. _

“So tell us, Captain Rogers,” Uncle Herman began, the Irish glow turning him almost neon pink. Steve, to his credit, shrank back a little at the title. “How long you been seeing our Darcy?”

_ Our Darcy? Last Christmas you told my mother I was wasting my time in a man’s world, five feet from my face. _

“Um, a few months now. We’ve been friends a while longer.”

“How sweet,” Priscilla added, smiling over the rim of her glass. “Are you both friends with all the - uh - Avengers and all that?”

“We actually aren’t allowed to talk about it too much. Work contracts and all that.” Darcy tried to look as happy as possible, but she could feel the alcohol filling her cheeks. “But he’s been amazing.”

“We were starting to wonder,” Crystal said, pushing her food idly around her plate. “Darcy hasn’t brought home a man since that Ian boy. That poor fella was so skinny, he made her look like a linebacker.”

Darcy’s fists tightened around her knife and fork.

“Ian being skinny isn’t Darcy’s fault.” Lili’s voice was a little quieter, knowing that she was only Adam’s girlfriend, knowing that she was the only person of color at the table. “And even so, there’s never been anything wrong with her body.”

_ “Thank you,”  _ Darcy mouthed across the table, once their gazes connected.

It seemed to be enough for Aunt Crystal for the time being. The subject changed for a short while, bouncing from how the Patriots had been playing (“ _ Fuck _ the Patriots,” Adam had mumbled), to stories about the family members who were missing from their places around the table, and inevitably, no matter how obliquely, back to the fact that Darcy had somehow managed to swindle Captain America into meeting her family.

“It really isn’t the same without Uncle David,” Darcy said loudly, punishing the gristle on the drumstick of her hen. “Nobody reads  _ The Night Before Christmas _ like he did.”

“Oh, of course not,” Joanie piped up, sounding now a little more than three sheets to the wind. “Steve, I’m sure the children would just  _ love _ it if you’d read it this year - ”

“Maybe ‘Cilla should read it this year. Since she’s hosting, after all.” She hated how poisonous her voice had started to sound, how she could almost physically feel Steve stiffening beside her. Why,  _ why _ did she bring him into this mess?

“I don’t mind,” Priscilla said in a small voice, though it was clear that she very much did mind. “If Steve wants to…”

He cleared his throat, stretching an arm over the back of Darcy’s chair. “That’s alright. You’ve been an amazing host, Priscilla, I think you should do it.”

“Goodness knows these kids need more practice with the children,” Herman grumbled, as if anyone had asked his opinion about it. But based on the way that Priscilla shifted in her chair, Darcy got the feeling that a floodgate had been opened.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Joanie coughed, leaning into her wine glass.

“Now, hang on, Joanie - ” Darcy’s dad began to raise his voice, but the booze had emboldened Joanie too much already.

“We’re not getting any younger, Spencer. When we were their age, we’d married already, bought houses. We had  _ discipline _ , we had  _ priorities _ . I read an article, you know, that says most of these kids their age want to hold off on starting a family in  _ spite of evolution _ , because they want more time for leisure, the article said!” Joanie was close to throwing her hands into the air, her lipstick beginning to smudge onto her teeth. Annoyance was bubbling in Darcy, like pressure building in a chamber. “I’m all for these young people working and doing their spirit journeys and all that, but the survival of the family line - ”

“Maybe some of us are just worried about bringing innocent people into a world full of problems,” Darcy cut in finally, letting her fork and knife clatter against the plate. She was going to be called dramatic, she knew it, but there was just enough wine in her to no longer give a fuck. “Maybe some of us would like to sort out our own shit before we let someone completely new inherit it without asking for it.”

Joanie folded her arms over her chest, looking as though she had tasted something unspeakably sour. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t use such language at the dinner table, Darcy.”

_ We’re not in  _ **_your_ ** _ house, so it doesn’t mean dick to me what you’d appreciate. _ “I love my family, but I don’t think they should dictate decisions that’ll affect my health and well-being for the rest of my life, or whether I’m open to bringing a completely new human into a boiling, racist, sexist planet where goddamn supervillains exist.”

To her surprise, Priscilla was the next one to speak. “There  _ is _ a lot to be left up to chance these days, Momma…”

“There was a lot left up to chance when we were growing up, too. You don’t remember the Cold War, you don’t remember what it was like worrying about a nuclear bomb going off every time we sat down to go to school.” Joanie was about to pull out the full theatrics, her eyes welling up behind the imitation Gucci frames she heroically whipped off to dab at her tears with the nice napkins. “Is it so bad to want to see our family survive against all odds? Is it so bad to want - to  _ hope  _ my baby might pass on all our legacies and our traditions?”

There it was. Darcy was making Joanie out to be the bad guy, shunting all responsibility she had to her family and being the selfish child that she was. And Priscilla was letting herself be thrown under the bus for it all.

“Just as well,” Herman muttered under his breath, his jowls shaking as he stabbed at the vegetables on his plate. “She’s already put on weight since last year, Steve wouldn’t want to be landed with a body like that after a baby.”

Somebody might have called her name, but she was on her feet already, squeezing past the kids table and marching toward the bathroom. Her aunt would talk shit about her once she was out of earshot, would bemoan her storming off like a petulant child, but there was no way, none, she was going let these fuckers see her cry.

Why had she come here? She  _ knew _ it was going to be like this. Joanie was a spineless bitch, had been since Darcy was a kid, all her lavish, useless auntie gifts not a symbol of real love but an excuse to spend money and show off her charitable spirit. Why had she hoped her aunt would, for once,  _ not  _ be shitty?

Why had she allowed Steve to step past these walls with her and let him see the foul, bullshit family that she’d worked so hard to move away from?

She stared into the mirror, her tear-stained blotchy pink face staring back at her, shoving her fist against her lips so she wouldn’t sob out loud. They weren’t going to get that satisfaction from her. Not Uncle Herman, not Joanie, not Patton fucking Crawford or precious pumpkin Priscilla.

Her fists tightened on the polished white countertop. Her brain felt like it was buzzing between her ears, the subtle sound of the lightbulbs overhead suddenly cacophonous. She was hyperventilating, she could tell, but the longer she looked at the tear streaked, moon-faced little girl in the mirror, the less she felt like that face or that body belonged to her.

She didn’t realize that she’d left the door unlocked until it opened partway, Steve’s concerned Captain face peeking through the crack.

“Darcy?” he asked, his voice unbearably soft. She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Her hand reflexively shot toward the toilet paper roll to press a few white squares to her face. “Can I come in?”

_ He’s going to think you’re weak, and stupid, just like the rest of them. _

“Okay.”

He slipped into the bathroom beside her, quietly shutting the door behind him. For the first time in a small space, he didn’t crowd her, standing as close to the door as he could while she gently closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it, her face in her hands.

“That was stupid,” she whispered, remembering his super hearing. Remembering that it was dumb to try and pretend he couldn’t hear her crying. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t - I shouldn’t have asked you to come here.”

He stayed silent a moment, and then she could hear him rustling, feel his body filling the space in front of her. When she opened her eyes, flattening her palms onto her thighs, he was crouched in front of her, pushing her hair away from her face.

“None of that was your fault.” It was too much still to look into those kind blue eyes. If she looked right at him she knew she would crumble into his arms. “You know that, right? You know she was lookin’ for a fight and it was shitty to single you out?”

“I know. I know.” She buried her nose in toilet paper, swallowing hard. “Something shitty happens every year. I should’ve known better than to bring you, though.”

A sympathetic smile rose up his handsome face. “You kiddin’? Apart from that sorry bunch, there’s nobody else I’d rather spend my Christmas with.”

In spite of herself, Darcy smiled, too. He should’ve known better than to say things like that. She didn’t deserve him. “I know I shouldn’t give a fuck what they think. Whatever they have to say about it, I don’t think...I don’t think I’ll ever wanna have kids.”

This was the first time she’d ever said it out loud. Working with him, working with SHIELD had only ever cemented the fact, but she meant what she had said earlier. This was a divisive, ugly, fucked up world they were living in. Maybe some people were capable of taking care of a whole other human being on top of themselves, but she just...wasn’t. She’d known for a while now.

“Well, I guess that’s a relief.” Steve’s gaze had dropped to the corner of the room beside her. She could bear to look at him now, at least. He was as beautiful as ever, the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones more suited to a magazine than her motley family Christmas party. But there was conflict in his eyes. She knew him too well not to be able to see it. “Seeing as I’m not gonna be able to give ‘em to you.”

“Kids?” she chuckled, the last of her sniffles fading. “Well, color me disappointed not to be the smokin’ hot baby mama you’re looking for.”

Steve hesitated. “I was gonna say because the serum made me…” His entire face went beet red. “...you know, incompatible with the regular baby-making process...but yeah. That too. I guess.”

“You can’t have kids?”

“I’m the first enhanced person modern science really knew about. Weren’t a lot of enhanced women with enhanced uteruses we could really...test things out on.”

Darcy felt herself blush too, the gears in her brain spinning toward Wanda, or Carol, or even Valkyrie. “So...an enhanced uterus could…?”

He took both her hands in his, not caring that she’d just cried all over them without washing them yet. “I’m not interested in super-uteruses. Darce, I’m interested in you...terus.”

She snorted, her eyes falling shut, and leaned forward to let her forehead bump into his. “Steve, shut the fuck up.”

“Gladly,” he whispered, and kissed her for real, with no one watching.

And she didn’t stop him.

Not with one of his hands in her hair and the other at her waist, not with his tongue gently sweeping the crease between her lips, not with her fingers grasping at his collar, a tender heat pooling in her stomach. Not with the soft humming that went straight from his chest to the space between her hips, not when she finally got her feet under her and backed him up into the wall behind them, when she got the chance to crowd him at last and not the other way around.

He swallowed her moans with a heavy sweep of his tongue across hers, tilting her chin up to meet him so he could get proper access to her mouth, so he could pull her flush to his chest. She stood on tiptoe, gently parting his legs with her knee, feeling him hard on her thigh. 

She could have sworn she felt her heart beating hard through her dress and directly into his shirt.

He broke first, cradling her face in both hands. “You okay?”

“Better than okay,” she breathed. A strand of golden hair fell into his eyes, and she tucked it away this time. “Do you want to skip dessert here and order that lava cake from room service back at the hotel?”

Steve grinned. “You read my mind.”

* * *

There wasn’t going to be much time to order the lava cake, as it turned out. Darcy waited in the car while Steve collected their coats from the rack in Priscilla’s living room closet. When he came out to the curb, Lili and Adam were with him.

“I’m so sorry,” Lili said, her big, dark eyes soft and wet. “I should’ve stood up for you, I should’ve said something, but I froze, and I - ”

“Don’t. It’s not on you to correct this dumb fucking bitch that we have the misfortune to be related to.” She let herself send a half-smile to her brother. “Mom and Dad gonna be upset I didn’t stick around?”

“They’re on your side. Mom’s saying she doesn’t want to come to another one of these stupid things if Joanie can’t keep her fat mouth shut.” He gave her shoulder a gentle punch through the window. “Christmas Day dinner’s tomorrow at Mom and Dad’s. Just us. You both better be there.”

“We will,” Steve promised, closing the driver door and offering Adam a hand to shake. “You two drive safe tonight, okay?”

Before Adam could answer, the front door of the house opened and slammed shut. “Hold on!”

Priscilla came clambering down the front steps with a puffy jacket thrown haphazardly around her shoulders. Within seconds, it seemed like the winter bit her nose pink, but she stopped at Darcy’s passenger window all the same. “Hey - I, um...I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For what happened in there. My mom was...way out of line, and she should never have said the things she said.” She looked at her hands, perfect white teeth chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s been hard for Patton and me...we’ve been trying since we got married, and...I never should’ve let her take it out on you.” Her green eyes met Darcy’s with clear, soft pain in them. “I’m sorry.”

She was still Priscilla, with her stupid perfect highlighted cheeks and her stupid perfect blonde hair that did whatever she wanted it to do and stupid perfect matching outfits with her dog. But it was a step forward.

“Me, too.”

Steve pulled out of the driveway with his hand resting idly in her lap. It was almost ten o’clock by the time they were back at the bed and breakfast, the night crisp with all the slow settling snow on the ground around the parking lot. He had his hand to the small of her back all through the lobby, on their way up the stairs to their room.

His hands had transferred to her hips by the time that she got the key in the lock. He smelled like linens, leaning into her neck, his beard brushing her skin as his lips found her pulse point.

“I don’t think I want dessert anymore,” Darcy breathed, turning in his arms to stand on tiptoe and smother his smirk with her kiss.

“No?” His hands were warm around her waist, comfortable, his pinkies resting at the base of her spine and only just lingering above the place where her hips swelled into her ass. He dropped his forehead to meet hers, backing her into their suite with shallow steps. “I might…”

“You fuckin’ geek,” she hissed, curling her hand in his hair and pulling him toward her, listening for the heel of his shoe against the door, and the click of the lock behind him. He still tasted a little of gin, the tip of his nose just the slightest bit wind-bitten from their walk through the parking lot, and when she swept her tongue over his, her arms curling around his neck, he made a soft sound that went straight to that hot part of her stomach.

She ambled with him toward her bed, everything tangled, their shoes toed off at the door. His fingers were tracing their way down from her waist, squeezing down firmly around her ass. Every touch made her heart jump, and when he broke first, soft blue and green in his eyes meeting hers, she realized how much better this was than she had imagined.

“Hey,” he said, lifting a hand off her ass, and she almost whined in missing it there until he pressed his thumb to the corner of her mouth.

“Hey, yourself.” Steve smiled, and Darcy wanted to mirror his movement, trace the soft, beautiful curve of his lips with her own fingers.

He ducked in, and she stood up taller to kiss him again, but he leaned into her ear, his hand falling to the curve of her jaw. “I love you.”

She felt like a teenager, grinning stupidly with her insides all...twitterpated. She pulled away, holding him by the chin so his eyes connected purely, completely with her own. He was still Steve, still her Steve, as he’d always been. “I love  _ you _ .”

She could hear his grin before she felt it, his lips on hers, his hands on her. Somewhere in the back of her head, she was aware of the sound of her coat dropping to the floor, followed by his, and the deliciously rough feeling of his bare hands on the backs of her thighs, hiking up her dress. He swallowed her moan, shifting her up into her arms like she weighed nothing, one free hand sliding up her waist and toward the front of her dress to cup her breast through the fabric.

Darcy groaned a little, her hips rolling reflexively into him. “Not enough,” she mumbled into his beard, and clawed at the top button of his shirt. “Need to feel you,  _ please _ .”

She was not expecting him to bend forward, halfway tossing her onto the bed, his eyes dark and hungry as he descended on her, slowly untying the delicate knot at the front of her dress. “Said please this time. That’s a good girl…”

_ Oh, fuck. _

Her hand slid up his front, sliding open each button of his shirt in between rough kisses, while he parted the front of her dress, exposing her pale skin to the air. “So beautiful,” he whispered, trailing a path from her collarbone to the space between her breasts, running his hand along the underwire of her bra. “Can I take this off?”

“I will kick your ass if you don’t, Rogers, I swear to God,” she hummed, her head falling back while her hands wandered into his hair. She arched her back for a moment so he could get his hands under her and peel open her bra clasp.

He didn’t leave her wanting for long, it was as if his mouth were meant to be on her, his tongue connecting with her nipple before she could realize his lips had left her at all. One of his hands slipped into her underwear, and she didn’t have time to worry or care that she was already wet when he caught her clit with his finger, pressing down gently and rolling in soft circles.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take him long to get her to see stars, working her tits and her cunt the way he was. She forgot, in those white-hot, brain frying moments, that yesterday they’d only been friends, but in fairness, she also forgot her name a little when he touched her like this, feeling him, smelling him, needing him.

“Get up here,” she hissed, when she figured out how to form words again, his shirt open at last, slipping down his shoulders. She kissed him again - (this was something she got to do now, she remembered, wishing she could do nothing but kiss him ever again) - and fumbled for the fly of his pants, palming his erect cock through the fabric.

“Jesus.” He bit down on her lower lip, hips rocking into her hand. “Darcy - please, I - ”

He had to kick his pants the rest of the way down after she’d undone the button and zipper, but it was well-worth having him close, learning on his elbow to slide his tongue into her mouth, his cock lying hard against her thigh. She shoved his boxers down his legs and let him shuck those the rest of the way as well, arcing her hips upwards to inch out of her panties.

“Okay?” Her hand wrapped around his cock, lining him up. He kissed her again, smiling into her mouth.

“Okay.”

Steve rocked into her in shallow thrusts at first, giving her a moment to stretch for him, but  _ fuck _ , it was such a delicious stretch, languid, splitting her right where she needed him. Darcy scraped her fingernails down his shoulders, kicking her heels into the small of his back to edge him in deeper, slowly, until he slid in to fill her completely.

He gave her a look that asked if this was okay, if  _ she  _ was okay. She leaned up as much as she could with his body covering hers to slant their mouths together, sucking his lip between hers.

He rocked forward again, hand sliding down to grip at the curve of her hips, lifting her bottom half just slightly to help her meet him in the middle, the friction bringing her close again.

She came apart love drunk and sloppy, eyes screwed shut, holding him as close as she could.

He came apart with his face buried in her neck, chanting her name like a prayer, forehead sheening lightly with sweat.

Darcy was too tired to clean up properly, panting a little in their mess while Steve slowly untangled his limbs from hers, coming to lie flat on his back beside her. To her relief, his hand slipped between them to lace her fingers between his.

Still Steve, still her Steve.

“You okay?” she whispered, squeezing his knuckles tight.

He was quiet for a second, which made her heart start to hammer again, before saying, in a pained voice: “Are you absolutely _sure_ we can't order the lava cake now? ”

She snorted, poking him in the side, the spot she knew he was most ticklish, until he squirmed and laughed and pulled her back into his arms to find all the spots he knew she was most ticklish.

Still her Steve, as he’d always been.


End file.
